


there's still time

by teeterss



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Brother/Brother Incest, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, First Time, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Panama, Romance, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 01:11:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12222699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teeterss/pseuds/teeterss
Summary: Nathan’s birthday was approaching and it was a big one.





	there's still time

**Author's Note:**

> I'm only working from the events establish in Uncharted 4, I haven't played the other three so idk if anything here interferes with canon.

Nathan’s birthday was approaching and it was a big one. “The big two one, aye Nate,” Sam had said one night, as he smoked a cigarette out the window. “You got any idea what you wanna do?”

Nathan looked up from his book and pondered the question for a moment. “Anything’s fine. We don’t even know where we’re gonna be by then. No need for a fuss.” Sam just smiled an unreadable smile at that, and turned to blow a plume of smoke into the night’s air.

Sam had already pulled out all the stops for Nathan’s eighteenth. They’d gone up to Atlantic City and started the day by fleecing a casino. Sam had known how to count cards since he was a teenager. He’d learnt mostly for the showmanship of it and used it more as a party trick rather than for actual practical use. Still, he knew just how to play the system so as not to raise any suspicion and how to lose just enough that the wins looked like pure luck.

“My boy Nate here’s my lucky charm,” Sam had said to the small crowd that had gather around them when he won yet again, and pulled Nathan into a bear hug.

By three they’d won fifteen thousand dollars and decided to quit while they were ahead. They’d blown most of that by ten.

“You think we should save the rest?” Nathan had yelled over the pounding music of the club they’d ended up in, after Sam ordered yet another bottle. They’d spent a big chunk of the winnings on the best room of the best hotel in the city that they’d probably only sleep a few hours in. More on suits they’d probably never wear again, and the rest on expensive champagne Nathan couldn’t tell the difference from the cheap prosecco he and Sam got for €3 when in Europe.

“Absolutely not,” Sam had said firmly, an arm hooked around Nathan’s neck so every word was spoken right into his ear. “This is your night, little brother! We may have to live outta our suitcases, in shitty motel rooms, from one job to the next, but tonight we’re saying fuck that! Tonight, I get to give you the lifestyle you deserve, Nate!” Nathan had just grinned at that, those words meaning more to him than all the money in the world.

*

Sometimes when money was tight they’d take jobs lifting artifacts from private collectors. It wasn’t something either of them particularly enjoyed, breaking into civilian estates brought up some unpleasant memories, but it was easy money and they were both very good at it. There wasn’t a lock or safe Sam couldn’t get passed, nor a space Nathan couldn’t get to.

They’d vito each job thoroughly but if the target seemed enough of an asshole, or the artifact in question was illegally obtained, they’d take the work.

A job they’d taken with much enthusiasm had been getting a painting back that had been stolen during World War II. The rightful owner’s successors had tracked the piece down to an ex oil tycoon now living in Wisconsin, but had hit a wall legally getting it back. The brothers always did like a job where they got to feel like the good guys.

“Y’know, this piece can be traced back to the mayor of Dinkelsbühl before it mysteriously disappeared in 1944,” Nathan had told Sam on the way to the location. “The town still claims the war never reached them but _come on_.”

“It’s gotta be nazis, right?”

“It’s gotta be nazis,” Nathan echoed, pulling on his gloves. “It always is.”

They’d successfully made their way through the hive of security in the large mansion, secured the piece, and were just making their way out across the extensive grounds with it when they heard a noise.

“Security guard?” Nathan mouthed to Sam across the painting they were both cradling. Sam shook his head slowly, straining towards the noise. It sounded again and Sam suddenly paled.

“Oh, fuck, it’s a dog!” he hissed, and tugged at Nathan to get moving again. They legged it across the grounds, the painting swinging between them, the sound of a very lively animal getting much closer. When they reached the high wall they’d arrived over, Sam heaved the painting unceremoniously over it, then beckoned Nathan over for a boost. 

“You know if that painting’s damaged, we’re not getting paid, right?” Nathan said as he scaled up the wall.

“Worry about that when a dog isn’t looking to make us it’s new chew toys,” Sam hissed back, pushing him up the last of the way.

Nathan hastily straddled the wall and turned to see a very large rottweiler barrelling towards where Sam was still standing.

“Fuck, fuck, come on, come on!” He grabbed Sam’s hand to lift him up. The dog was now close enough to clearly hear the vicious snapping of its muzzle, looking for something to crush between it. Nathan swore loudly again and pulled at Sam with all his strength, hauling him up the rest of the way up. He was a little too forceful, however, and his efforts caused Sam to crash into him, sending them both toppling over the other side onto the sidewalk.

“Crap,” Nathan groaned, curling in on himself on the concrete. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam said a little shakily from flat on his back beside him, then he laughed. “Don’t worry, the painting broke my fall.” Nathan snorted then did a quick mental assessment of himself. Nothing broken or current hemorrhaging.

“Since when did the old nazi have a guard dog?” Sam said, gingerly sitting up. “That wasn’t in the research.”

“Maybe it’s just a beloved pet,” Nathan dead-panned and Sam huffed a laugh.

Miraculously, the painting didn’t have a scratch on it. Sam checked it then doubled checked it, then laughed delightedly and pulled Nathan in for a hug. Nathan could feel his heartbeat rocketing against his own chest. 

“Luck’s on our side tonight, little brother!”

“Aside from the dog trying to eat us, you mean.”

Sam laughed again, loud and joyous, and placed a kiss in Nathan’s hair, then another on his forehead, then titled Nathan’s head back to plant a flurry of them on his cheek, his jaw and then, fleetingly, on his lips.

“Get off,” Nathan laughed, wriggling out of his grip, his cheeks reddening. He made a show of rubbing at where Sam had kissed him, each spot feeling as hot as a brand. Sam was grinning at him, eyes shining in the moonlight, looking as recklessly and uncaringly handsome as ever. For a moment, Nathan wanted to ask for more.

“Better get outta here before that dog wakes the whole neighbourhood.” Nathan nodded and the moment passed.

*

Nathan had been eleven when he’d discovered Sam kissing Angela Birch behind the prayer building. It had been a complete accident, Nathan wasn’t even looking for Sam, he’d just wanted a quiet place to read without getting hassle from the other kids for a while. Sam had shown him the spot a few weeks prior, after he’d discovered it was a perfect blind spot from any of the orphanage’s windows. All thoughts of reading quickly left Nathan’s head, however. 

Sam had her pressed up against the wall, one leg slipped between hers, rocking slowly against her, as they mouthed hungrily at each other. One of his hands was tangled in her hair by her neck, his thumb gently brushing against her jaw, and the other cradled her hip. Nathan had been frozen for a moment, unable to take his eyes of them. When she let out a loud, aching gasp, he finally pulled himself together enough to flee. The image of them together was far less easy to run from.

It was days later, when he and Sam were reading in Sam’s otherwise deserted dormitory -- Sam up against the headboard, with Nathan sprawled on his belly across the foot -- when Nathan finally got the courage to ask him about it.

“Sam,” he started, somewhat nervously. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhmm,” Sam hummed, not looking up from his book that was propped up against his thighs.

“What’s kissing like?”

Sam looked up at him slowly. “Why’d you wanna know? There someone you like?”

“No,” Nathan said a little too quickly. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, it’s, ah,” Sam huffed out an awkward laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s kinda hard to explain. Should I really be the one to talk to you about this stuff?”

“Come on, Sam, please,” Nathan pleaded, using his wide, puppy dog eyes to full effect. “Who else am I gonna ask? Sister Patrice?”

Sam snorted, flipping his book closed. “Fine, you got me there. Well, I guess an actual kiss isn’t really that exciting, y’know, like lips on lips -- it's wetter than you’d expect, which is kinda weird -- but it's more the little things that go with it that’s the good part. Like, pressing up against someone else, getting to touch them -- not even like that -- just, y’know, their hair, their waist, their neck. Feeling them breathe against you, listening to all the sounds they make.” He laughed again, embarrassed, and rubbed at his neck. “I dunno, the response is kinda the best part. Girls go crazy if you kiss them right.”

“Oh, right.” Nathan could feel his face burning. He tried to imagine what it’d be like to kiss someone but every time he did, he ended up being the one pressed up against the wall. “Do you think-- do you think you could show me?”

Sam snorted and tapped Nathan on the head with his book. “I don’t think Angela is the kinda girl who’d let people watch. But just wait, soon you’ll have girls lining up to kiss you and you’re a fast learner.”

Nathan forced a laugh and ducked his head, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that Sam had misunderstood what he’d been asking for.

*

“What if we got another girl,” Sam asked, wandering out the small bathroom of this week’s motel room, toothbrush hanging from his mouth.

“What?” Nathan stopped folding laundry on the bed to stare at him, nonplused.

“For your birthday,” Sam pulled out the toothbrush to grin at him. “We had fun with, what was her name, Selina, last time, remember? Y’know,” his grin widened, “when it was all three of us?” 

“Oh, right.” Nathan went back to folding to hide his blush. They’d never really talked about that night. They hadn’t even talked about it beforehand, Sam had just chatted up a girl in some dive bar and somehow all three of them had ended up back in the brother’s motel room. They’d been so drunk Nathan could hardly remember any of it. “Yeah, it was fun.”

“So… wanna try it again?” Nathan busied himself with rolling socks, his eyes averted, very aware of Sam’s gaze directed at him. Sometimes it was hard to tell if Sam really wanted something, or if he was only doing it because he thought it was what Nathan wanted.

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

*

There had been no other way to get to the island just off the Spanish coast for their next big expedition other than by getting a ride by boat. Well, no way that was in their budget. It was an hour and a half trip, on an old vessel that had clearly seen better days, with a small crew that couldn’t speak more than a few words of english. Still, they’d demanded pay up front and didn’t ask any questions, so the brothers had had worse set ups.

“One day, _I’m_ getting a boat,” Sam sighed contentedly from where he was stretched out along the bench at the back of the vessel, eyes closed.

“Oh, yeah?” Nathan mumbled across from him, only half listening. 

“It’s relaxing, y’know. Good for the soul. Might even get a houseboat and just live on the thing.”

“You don’t say.”

Sam cracked an eye open to squint at Nathan against the bright sun. “What are you doing, anyway? Are you drawing me?”

“What?” Nathan said quickly, finally looking up from his journal. “No, of course not.”

“Really?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Because what else could you be drawing out here? A nice seagull caught your eye?”

“Firstly, it’s sketching, not drawing,” Nathan corrected, to stall for time more than anything. “And secondly… I’m sketching the boat.”

“The boat?” Sam was grinning now, wide and shit eating, like he always did when he had a chance to give Nathan shit. “You want me to toss you overboard so you get a view of the whole thing, rather than just this 10ft?”

“Fuck you,” Nathan said without any heat. “Fine, I was sketching you. As you so kindly pointed out, there’s not much variety out here.”

“Hey, I don’t mind,” Sam said, swinging his legs around to sit up. “If I’d’ve known I would have posed properly. You gonna let me see?”

“It’s not anything, really.” Nathan snapped his journal shut, feeling uncharacteristically self conscious. “I wasn’t even trying. Just something to pass the time.”

“Nathan,” Sam said, tone mock serious. “You know there’s no way I’m not seeing that sketch. My vanity simply won’t allow it.”

Nathan sighed, knowing Sam wasn’t about to leave this alone, and tossed him the journal. “Fine, but if you hate it you can’t complain.” Sam eagerly flicked through the pages until he came to the most recent entry. Nathan watched his face intently, his stomach tense.

“Hey, this is good,” Sam said, a smile spreading over his face as he took it in. “Really good! Holy shit, Nate!”

“You don’t have to just say that.”

“No, no, I really mean it.” Sam had an earnest sincerity to his voice that Nathan always loved to hear and wished he heard more often. “I always knew you were good but this is great! And I’m really not just saying that because it’s of me. I don’t know how you got my features so exact.”

 _I’d know your face blind,_ Nathan wanted to say. “Thanks, man,” was what came out.

*

They’d been on the island nearly a week but still hadn’t found anything. They were looking for some 12th century burial tombs that run under the bedrock of the island and one would think they’d be rather conspicuous in such a small place, but the brothers weren’t having much luck. It wouldn’t usually be that much of a problem but they’d blown nearly all their savings on this expedition and their supplies were dwindling. 

“This rock is smaller than the goddamn orphanage’s backyard,” Sam snapped on the third day, after they’d scoured the entire island in vain yet again. “How the fuck haven’t we found these fucking tombs yet?”

They’d given up searching on the fourth day and returned to the dilapidated, but surprisingly secure, shack they’d been living out of to reassess all their research. 

The sun was just beginning to set when Sam tossed aside the aged map he’d been pouring over in exasperation. “I can’t look at these things anymore. If I do, I’ll go cross eyed.” He stood, striding over to the open window to light up a cigarette. 

While Sam was the one to organise and lead most of their jobs, the pressures of them always got to him the worst. Nathan swore he took up smoking just as a something to help with the on the job jitters.

“I haven’t found a single scrap of useful information,” Sam continued, a plume of smoke accompanying his words. “This is a goddamn waste of time.”

“It’s not,” Nathan reassured, without a lot of conviction. He’d read the same passage from the old tome in front of him three times now but still couldn’t recall a word of it. “The answer is here somewhere. We just need to keep looking.” 

“But we’re not getting any further with this!” Sam was radiating tension, his shoulders bunched up around his ears, fingers tapping restlessly against the window ledge. “This day’s just been another write off!” 

“Well, what do you suggest we do then?” Nathan snapped, Sam’s cynicism starting to grate. “Go wander aimlessly around island some more? Because that did us _so_ much good before.”

Sam turned to glare at him. He looked like shit. “At least I’m trying to think of something. If it were up to you, we’d just sit around here for another day, reading useless maps that don’t tell us anything we don’t already know!”

“Oh right, because your strategy of ‘loudly complaining’ is a much better use of our time,” Nathan said scathingly. “Much more worthwhile than actual research!”

Sam looked like he wanted to say something, maybe even yell something, but instead he turned away from Nathan and took a long drag from his cigarette. “We need a break from this crap, at the very least,” he said eventually.

Nathan sighed, his sudden anger ebbing out of him as quickly as it had come. His eyes prickled with tiredness and he scrubbed at his face, feeling the coarse roughness of a few days stubble. He did need a break. “Alright, alright. What do you wanna do? There’s not really a lot options around here.”

Sam rolled his cigarette between thumb and forefinger in contemplation for a moment before he replied. “Did you bring a swimsuit?”

*

The cool water was a welcome relief after the staleness of being cooped up in that small shack for so long. Nathan plunged himself into it until he was fully submerged, letting the stress soak out of his body, and only resurfaced when his straining lungs demanded it.

They’d passed the small lake many times during their time on the island, but before now it’s glittering waters had been nothing but a nuisance as it took forever to travel around. Now it seemed like the only place on the rock that was bearable.

Nathan swam unhurriedly over to where Sam was floating, spread out on his back like a crucifix. His eyes were closed, his expression peaceful, the faint worry lines that had appeared in recent years smoothed out.

“This was a good idea,” Nathan said, treading water beside him. _I hate it when we fight_ , he wanted to add, but they don’t talk about that kind of thing.

Sam cracked an eye to grin at him, crooked and easy. He thinks it’s charming and Nathan knows it is. “Of course it was. It was mine, after all.”

“I’m gonna stay in here so long I grow gills. Then I’ll never have to leave.” Sam chuckled and Nathan watched as water pooled in the dip of his flat stomach.

“Maybe you can grow feathers and webbed feet and become a proper drake.”

“Only if you promise to come feed me bread.”

“Oh, every day.” Nathan snorted and jabbed him in the ribs. Sam jerked, twisting away from him, and ended up submerging under the water. It was hard not to laugh as he resurfaced spluttering and blinking water out of his eyes.

“I, ah, didn’t actually mean for that to happen,” Nathan said with a valiant attempt at keeping a straight face.

“You really ruined my zen there, Nate,” Sam griped, splashing him a little.

“Hey, hey,” Nathan held up his hands, backing up a little. “Now look, we’re both far too mature to let this turn into a splashing match, aren’t we?”

“Oh, totally,” Sam was grinning a dark grin that was never a good sign for Nathan. “And you’re mature enough that me kicking your ass in a race to the other side is just because I’m the better swimmer.”

“Wait, what?” But Sam was already off, making a beeline for the distant shore and Nathan could do nothing but follow in his wake.

*

When they’d exhausted themselves in the water, they stretched out on their backs on the grassy lake side to dry off in the warm night air. They’d been out long enough that the sun had disappeared entirely, leaving a clear sky and a moon that seemed too impossibly large to be real. Nathan gazed up at it, content to just lie there listening to Sam’s even breathing beside him.

“Hey, Nate,” Sam said, his voice soft, as though apologetic about breaking the silence. “You know your birthday's coming up soon...”

Nathan sighed and rolled his head where it was cushioned in his folded arm to look at him. “I think you might be more excited about it than I am seeing as how much you bring it up, but yeah, I am aware.”

“Okay, smartmouth.” Sam shoved at him for his cheek before continuing. “It’s just… twenty-one is a pretty big deal.”

“Not really, Sam,” Nathan laughed. “I’ve been drinking since I was fifteen, not much is really gonna change.”

“That isn’t what makes it a big deal! You’re, y’know, you’re gonna be a man now. Officially.”

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I’m a man yet?” 

“I think you’re a pain in the ass,” Sam snapped as Nathan sniggered. “Look, I’m tryna say something here.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Nathan controlled his face into a serious look. “Go on.”

Sam turned away from him to stare up at the sky and, for a while, said nothing. Nathan just gazed at his profile and waited.

“Being twenty-one means there’s no more waiting for the next milestone. No more saying ‘when he’s older, he can decide what he wants’. I finally got no excuse. You’re gonna be your own man, Nate. You can make your own choices.” He turned back to look at Nathan, eyes far too open and unguarded. “You can leave if you want to make your own life now. You can leave me.”

“Is this why you’ve been so obsessed about this?” Nathan asked slowly. “You think I’m gonna want to go off on my own now?”

“You’ve never had a choice, Nate. Everything was always forced onto you; the orphanage, running away with me, this life.” Sam sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m just saying that _it’s okay_ if you want something else, something more. I’m not going to stop you.”

“Let me get this straight.” Nathan sat up to look at Sam properly. “You think this whole time I’ve just been putting up with you, putting up with this job, because I had no other choice?” When Sam didn’t answer, Nathan laughed. “My god, you’re an idiot.”

“Hey, I have a right to be concerned,” Sam said, sitting up and sounding affronted.

Nathan shook his head in exasperation. “You really think I don’t love running around the world hunting treasure as much as you do? And you really think I’d just put up with it in silence for this long if I didn’t?”

“Well, I knew you didn’t _hate_ it…” Sam mumbled.

“What else do you even think I’d prefer to be doing right now?” Nathan cut in, still grinning. “Taking my magic show to the big leagues?”

“Come on, Nate, you know you could do anything you wanted.” The seriousness in Sam’s voice sobered Nathan a little. 

“Sam…”

“And even if this is the life you want, you don’t have to be doing it with me!” Sam immediately seemed embarrassed at what he’d said and turned away from Nathan, hunching over himself with his knees pulled up towards his chest.

There was an awkwardness about Sam, and it wasn’t just because of the confession, it was what he wasn’t saying. Nathan knew that Sam wasn’t intentionally selfish. He was giving, far too giving when it came to his brother. If asked to give a limb for Nathan, Sam would just roll up his sleeve and ask how far up he should make the incision. And yet Nathan also knew that sometimes Sam’s good intentions came from a place of self interest, even if Sam himself was unaware. It may seem like Sam was giving him a way out of their partnership, to find his own path in life, but Nathan knew what this really was.

Nathan was just as beholden to Sam as he was to him. He could never say no to him. Sam must know, even if he didn’t ask directly for Nathan to stay with him, there was no way Nathan would ever refuse him. Sam wasn’t telling Nathan he could leave, it was more that he was begging him not to resent him for being unable to.

It should annoy Nathan, or at the very least, make him angry at being manipulated like this. But instead he felt a burn of satisfaction somewhere deep in his gut. Something greedy and desperate was stated with the knowledge that Sam needed him just as much as Nathan needed him. They were stuck with each other, and that didn’t seem to bother Nathan as much as it probably should.

In fact, he left light at the thought of it. He wanted to laugh at the contrasting misery that was still displayed in Sam’s whole body. He wondered how long Sam had been brewing on this. It was both amusing and infuriating how far Sam would twist things just to avoid talking to Nathan directly. 

Sighing, Nathan got his hand around the back of Sam’s neck and pulled at him so he was forced to look at him. “Sam, I want you to really listen to what I’m about to say because you seem to need to hear this. There isn’t anywhere I’d rather be, or anyone I’d rather be with, than here on this stupid island with you right now. I’m not here because of any other reason than because I wanna be. There’s been some shitty choices in our lives, some I’ve made, some you had to make for us, but I don’t regret any of the ones that got us here. We’ve had a hard life but I think it’s a good one. You make it a good one.” 

A hesitant smile appeared on Sam’s lips and Nathan gave his neck a squeeze. “Now, do you get that or do I need to get really mushy and use up all our heart to heart quota for the year?”

Sam snorted and pushed him off him. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, you love me. And I love you too, Nate. I’m just--” He ducked his head, his blush visible even in the moonlight. “I’m just really glad you’re here with me.”

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, so you’d better get used to it.” Sam grinned at him, as bright and wide as it usually was, and Nathan wanted to laugh at the idea that Sam could think he’d ever want anything other than this. 

“I just wish we had a better job to be doing right now. I'd really wanted this one to be special, y’know, for your birthday.”

“Shockingly, I had picked up on the fact you were a bit frustrated with this one,” Nathan said wryly. Sam had the decency to look a little sheepish and Nathan was about to tease him some more, when something about the way the moonlight was hitting the opposite lakeside caught his eye.

“Hey, Sam, am I imagining it or does that spot by those cluster of rocks over there look just like the arrowhead shaped cave entrance from the maps?” 

Sam scrabbled around to follow where Nathan was pointing. He squinted at the spot, then his eyes widened. “Holy shit, Nate, it does! You don’t think…”

“I think we just found ourselves a tomb, Sam,” Nathan laughed, clapping him on the chest.

“See, what did I tell you?” Sam grinned, throwing an arm around Nathan’s bare shoulder. “It was a great idea to give up on the research.” 

If Nathan hadn't been so excited about their breakthrough, he would have shoved him back into the lake.

*

While the treasure hunting business required a great deal of skill, it mostly all came down to luck. It was luck that caused Nathan to spot the entrance to the tombs. It was skill that let the brothers navigate through them successfully the following day, until they found the final chamber where the exquisitely preserved, and extremely precious, vase they sought lay. And then it was a great deal of bad luck that caused the chamber to start to collapse in on itself. 

It was by some miracle they made it out alive. The vase, less so.

“Is that really all that’s left?” Sam panted when safely free of the rubble, indicating to the sole broken handle that Nathan was clutching.

“Slightly less than we were hoping. You think it’s worth anything?” Nathan asked, tossing their meager findings to Sam.

“Sure,” Sam said wryly, catching it one-handed. “We just have to find a collector who’s interested in only the handle of a masterpiece.”

Nathan huffed an exhausted laugh and looked out across the lake to the spot where the two of them had lain the previous night, and thought that at least the trip hadn’t been an utter waste.

*

Despite not acquiring their main goal, they’d still snagged a few lesser pieces on their trip, which could keep them afloat for the next few months. The trouble was, they needed to sell them first. 

But there were worse places to be dirt broke than the coast of Spain. Sam had a contact who owed him a favour and owned a currently empty apartment just a few towns over from where they’d made port off the island. They had enough left for the train fare there but, until they found some buyers, they were stranded there.

And it turned out that finding a decent fence for small 12th century antiquities in rural Spain was just as hard as it seemed.

“Nate, I know you have a work ethic you like to stick to, and that’s commendable really,” Sam said when they returned to the apartment after another unsuccessful meeting. “But you really gotta stop being so picky with this deal. We need the money _now_.”

“That guy was a crook,” Nathan said firmly, heading straight to the small kitchen area to grab a couple of beers from the fridge. “I wasn’t about to get in bed with him.”

“It might have slipped your notice, little brother, but _we’re_ crooks too,” Sam said, sounding fondly exasperated. “And no one’s asking you to marry the guy. This is a one time deal and then we’ll probably never see him ever again.”

“Look, I’m not making any deals with a guy _that_ shady, especially when he holds all the cards. He seemed the type who’d stick a knife in your ribs if it got him a bigger cut. We need money, but we don’t need it _that_ bad. I can, I dunno, get a job bartending or something until we find someone we can actually work with.”

“You’re not tending no goddamn bar,” Sam said, snatching the beer Nathan was about to drink from out of his hand and taking a swig himself. “Your Spanish is shit for one thing, you wouldn’t understand the orders. We can manage for a while. But please, just _try_ and be more reasonable about the next guy we find. We’re running outta options here.”

Nathan flopped down on the sofa Sam had gallantly offered to sleep on during their stay as the place only had one bed. “I’ll try, but you just have to respect that I am a very good judge of character.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam muttered, flipping back his shirt sleeve to check his watch. His face then lit up. “Hey, Nate, guess what the time is?”

“I can’t possibly imagine.”

Sam’s grin widened. “It’s twelve sixteen.”

“Wow, Sam, thanks for that time update. Might as well throw away my watch with you here.”

“It’s twelve sixteen on the _first_. That date mean anything to do?” Realisation suddenly dawned on Nathan.

“Oh shit,” he said flatly. “It’s my birthday.”

“Hell yeah it is!” Sam laughed, bounding over to the sofa and diving on Nathan to trap him under a hug.

“Sam, Sam, stop! I’m gonna spill my beer,” Nathan laughed, trying to stay upright with Sam’s weight on top of him. He could feel Sam’s chest rumbling with his own laughter.

“Happy birthday, little brother!” Sam pressed a kiss in Nathan’s hair, then slid off him to sit beside him. “So, feeling any different? Any more grown up?”

“Yeah, I feel so drastically different that I didn’t even notice.” Sam laughed and ruffled Nathan’s hair seemingly just because he could.

“So, do I get to give you your present now, or what?”

Nathan’s chest tightened with affection. Sam always got like this, giddy with excitement at the chance to give Nathan something. “Yeah, that’d be cool, thanks.”

Sam gave Nathan’s shoulder a little squeeze, then he vaulted up and over the back of the sofa to rummage through his open holdall that lay behind it.

“Do you know how bad I’m going to feel if you’ve spent a load of money on this and we’re sitting here now, flat broke?” Nathan said when Sam handed him a small parcel wrapped in blue paper.

“Just shut up and open your damn present,” Sam said, cuffing him lightly on the side of his head. Nathan grinned at him, then peeled off the sellotape along the side of the package and pulled out the box within. He opened it to find, nestled in a cotton wool lining, an antique silver compass. He picked it up gingerly and flicked it open. It had a great deal of wear and was crusted with green rust in places, but other than that it still worked perfectly.

“Can you guess what it is?” Sam asked, almost bouncing with excitement beside him. 

“Not yet,” Nathan said slowly, still turning the compass over in his hands, studying it. “Give me a clue.”

“On the expedition it was used, it pointed south rather than north.” It took him a beat then Nathan’s head snapped up to stare Sam, mouth dropping open.

“It’s not-- you didn’t really-- this was Robert Peary’s compass?!” All Sam did by way of reply was fall back against the sofa cushions, laughing at Nathan’s expression. Nathan stared at him incredulously, then back down at the small metallic circle that lay in his palm. “You really got me the compass of the man who discovered the North Pole?”

“Well, I had to get you something worthy of a future famous adventurer!” Sam grinned up at him, head tilted skittishly to match his crooked smile. “What better way to set you up in life than with something that aided the expedition of the other greatest explorer of this century.”

“I just-- I mean, just, _how_?!” Nathan stammered, voice sounding hoarse. “How the hell did you get this?”

“You really think lifting something from a US naval archive is a problem for me? Geeze, Nate, I’ve half a mind to be offended.” He sat up and plucked the compass from Nathan’s slack grip and turned it between nimble fingers. “Just think, one day someone will be looking at this same compass and say ‘this used to belong to the great Nathan Drake! And some other, less important guy before that.’” 

He was grinning at Nathan again and it was almost overwhelming how much Nathan loved him in that moment. It filled him up so full he felt like he might burst from it, like it would pour out of him and he’d never be able to get it all back in.

Instead of thinking, instead of waiting until it had passed and he could bare it again, Nathan leant forward and kissed him. Not a brief, fleeting thing they could laugh off, or pass as nothing. A lingering, deliberate kiss, soft and real, on Sam’s lips. 

When he pulled back, Sam wasn’t smiling anymore.

“I guess that means you like the gift,” Sam tried to joke, voice rough and strained. Nathan floundered to say anything in return. 

The next moment stretched out as though it existed outside time, like their own personal vacuum of nothing. Nathan had his mouth open to say something, anything. Sam was looking at him, eyes wide like Nathan had just slapped him, lips shiny with spit that wasn’t his own.

The moment passed when Nathan’s breath caught, a gasp that cut through the room, when the weight of what he’d just done hit him. It was quickly followed by Sam closing the distance between them again with another kiss.

Then it was like flicking on a switch, like a dam rupturing, like will breaking. They clutched at each other as they kissed, gripping onto hair and clothes, as though scared the other would try to get away. It was desperate and urgent, like sharing air under water. Nathan felt Sam’s tongue prying into his mouth and opened up wide for him, letting him plunder him. He wanted to swallow him down, his tongue, his spit, until the lines that were him and Sam were completely blurred.

“Nathan,” Sam whispered, as he licked into his mouth. “Nathan, god, fuck, _Nathan_.” He sounded like he was pleading, begging for something. Nathan wanted to give it to him so badly.

“I don’t want this to stop,” he gasped, pressing his forehead against Sam’s. “This is fucked up, so fucking fucked up, but I don’t want to stop.”

“Then don’t,” Sam said simply. So he didn’t.

*

The only noise in the dark apartment was Nathan’s uneven, shaky breathing and the wet, smacking sound of Sam sucking a bruise on his inner thigh.

The sofa had been vacated when Sam had said between kisses that it was too cramped to be able to do ‘the good stuff’. Nathan’s stomach had clenched at all the things that had implied and didn’t question him as he dragged him to the bedroom.

Moonlight from the sole window of the room pooled over where a now naked Nathan lay stretched out on his back on the bed. He squirmed under Sam’s mouth, back arching, and tried not to accidentally kick him in the ribs where his leg was draped over his shoulder. Sam was pointedly ignoring Nathan’s cock, which lay hard and leaking on his belly, instead focusing on littering his spread thighs with as many bite marks and bruises as he wanted.

It felt like Sam had been at it for hours but it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes. When they’d hurriedly shed each other’s clothing with clumsy fingers, he’d pushed Nathan flat on the bed and pulled his thighs apart to settle between them. Nathan had been strung tight then and now he felt red raw, on a knife edge and close to toppling off.

When Sam’s teeth sank into the soft meat of the already abused, purple mark he’d sucked there, Nathan tried to muffle a wrecked sob into his bicep. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for ages,” Sam murmured, lips brushing against his skin as he spoke. “I guess that’s kinda fucked up to admit, right?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Nathan said, voice breathless. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Please, Sam, I-I need, could you--” Sam glanced up at him, taking in his wet, panting mouth and almost pained expression, and grinned.

“Getting a little desperate, hu?” He shifted back from where he was laying on his belly, up onto his knees in one fluid movement. Nathan couldn’t help but admire him as he moved above him, the dim light of the room casting shadows against every curve of his muscle, the dark hair that travelled from his stomach down to his thick, hard cock that jutted out in front of him. 

“You look gorgeous like this,” Sam murmured. “So fucked out.” He dragged his thumb over the wet shine of Nathan’s bottom lip and Nathan tried not to whimper. “Can I kiss you again?”

Nathan just pulled him down with a hand around the neck and Sam laughed into his mouth. Sam tasted like cigarettes and beer. Nathan wanted to keep kissing him until the only taste left there was him.

The bed springs creaked as Sam shifted to lay flush against Nathan, their legs tangling together. It was overwhelming having so much of Sam suddenly available to touch. So much bare skin just there at his fingertips. Nathan ran a hand over the bumps of his ribs, always too pronounced regardless of what Sam ate, and up the curved swell of his shoulder. He’d always loved Sam’s shoulders, so muscular and wide, able to bare so much. 

Sam teasingly coaxed Nathan’s tongue into his mouth and sucked. Nathan moaned, high and needy, and ground his hips up into Sam, cock sliding against his belly, leaving tacky stripes of precome there. 

“I wanna get you in my mouth, Nate,” Sam murmured against his lips. “Would you like that? Me sucking you off?”

Nathan shuddered and rolled his hips again. He liked Sam talking like that too much. He always did like it best with Sam in charge, taking care of him. “Yeah, yeah please.”

His heart pounded as he watched Sam crawl back down him to settle again between his spread thighs. It felt like a dream or a fantasy he could finally admit to himself he had.

When Sam licked up his cock from root to tip, it was all Nathan could do not to scream. He shook and gasped, finger nails digging into his palms in an attempt to keep grounded.

“Shit, Nate, look at the way your cock’s twitching for me,” Sam said, voice rough. “You really want this bad, hu?”

“Jesus, Sam, don’t make me beg,” Nathan gasped, one arm thrown over his eyes to hide his flushed, near teary expression.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sam shushed, pressing an apologetic kiss to his hipbone. “It’s just hard not to savour all of this.”

 _We can do this again,_ Nathan wanted to say. _We can do this every day until there aren’t any more_. But then Sam was taking him into his mouth and Nathan couldn’t think anymore.

Sam didn’t have any hesitance as he sucked him down. He took him almost all the way, getting him nice and wet, before pulling back and flattening his tongue against the head and nursing it. He hummed loudly as he did it, like Nathan tasted good, like it was his favourite thing in the world.

Nathan moved the hand over his eyes to cover his mouth that was open, wet and whining. He felt sure everyone in the building, even in the damn street, could hear him moaning and would know why. Would know that he was crying out because his brother had his fucking cock brushing the back of his throat.

The thought made him laugh, breathless and a little hysterical, and Sam answered it by taking him deeper. It silenced Nathan’s laugh with another groaning whimper.

It was hard to see in the light but Nathan could still make out the hollow of Sam’s cheeks, accentuated by shadow, as he sucked him, the fan of his eyelashes against his cheeks, the pout of his lips that were wrapped around his cock. He looked beautiful.

Nathan was suddenly, irrationally jealous of anyone Sam had been with before, anyone that had gotten to see him like this. He curled his fingers into Sam’s hair, across his stretched jaw and neck, and wanted, desperately, to be the last.

Sam pulled off him with a wet pop, a string of spittle still connecting his lips to Nathan’s cock. He got a hand around him to work him instead, smearing his spit evenly over him, his hot breath fanning over the head. “That feel good, Nate? Tell me what it feels like. Wanna hear you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, Sam, it’s so good.” Nathan swallowed, head feeling too fuzzy to produce anything remotely articulate. “It’s so hot, your mouth, fuck, it’s.. you’re-- you’re just amazing, Sam.”

Sam made a pleased humming sound and slid his free hand lower to roll Nathan’s balls in his palm, tugging gently. Nathan’s hips jerked, fucking his cock up into Sam’s fist, and Sam huffed a laugh then took him back into his mouth. He quickly set in a faster pace, bobbing his head rhythmically, his hand working what didn’t fit in his mouth.

Tension was building in Nathan’s stomach and the base of his cock. He could feel his orgasm coming, no matter how much he wanted it to last. “Shit, Sam, fuck, gonna come.” He threaded a hand into Sam’s hair and tugged at him gently to pull him off but Sam just slid down further. 

He stared up at Nathan, the gleam of his eyes just visible in the light, and sucked. Hard.

Nathan let out a choked gasp, the building pressure reaching it’s peak, and his hips thrust up, forcing his cock deep into Sam’s throat as he hit his release. He rode it out, his vision whiting, his hand still clutching at Sam’s hair, keeping him in place, as the pleasure rippled through him in waves.

He came back down slowly, his chest heaving, his body feeling heavier than it usually did after a full day’s climbing. Sam was still sucking him, lips wrapped around just the head now, eyes closed in blissful contentment, working the last of his come out of him. Nathan pushed at his head and shoulders weakly, feeling too oversensitive to bare it any longer. 

“Sam,” he gasped. “Sam, please.” He didn’t even know what he was asking for. What more could Sam give him? 

Sam was above him then, up on his knees straddling Nathan’s waist. He had his own cock in hand, flushed dark red and weeping precome ecessively, and was working it feverishly. “So gorgeous,” he muttered, eyes greedily taking in Nathan’s slacked, panting expression. “You took that so well. Fuckin’ beautiful. My gorgeous Nate, my Nathan.”

“Let me,” Nathan mumbled blearily, reaching for him. “I’ll do it.”

“No.” Sam got a grip on Nathan’s wrist with his free hand and pushed him back down against the mattress. “No, just lie there lookin’ pretty, Nate. Fuck, I’m so close, fuck, fuck.”

Sam’s shoulders hunched, his hips stuttering, and, letting out a guttural groan, he came over his own knuckles and Nathan’s stomach. Nathan watched his come splatter over his belly and thought it was oddly reminiscent of being baptised. He wanted to laugh again at the thought but didn’t have the energy. 

Sam panted above him for a moment, head hung between his shoulders, before he reached out with his come stained hand and scooped up the rest of it off Nathan’s skin. He offered out his sticky fingers before Nathan’s mouth and he didn’t even think before he dutifully licked them clean. 

“Now we’ve both tasted each other,” Sam said, giving a ragged laugh. His lips were swollen and red from sucking cock and Nathan pulled him down into another kiss to taste them, too.

They lay tangled together just kissing lazily for a while, sheets pooled around them, until they grew too tired even for that.

“I think we were made for each other, Nate,” Sam whispered into Nathan’s ear at some point. “Made to keep the other whole. Like how God took one of Adam’s ribs to make Eve. They shared each other’s blood too.”

Nathan hummed in contentment, too drowsy for anything else, and drifted to sleep with his head resting in the curve of his brother’s neck, Sam’s fingers tracing idle patterns in the plane of his back.

*

“Nate, we should--” Sam was cut off by Nathan pulling him into another kiss. “No, really,” he laughed, detaching himself again. “We should get up.”

It was late morning, or maybe early afternoon, Nathan couldn’t tell nor cared to know. Sam had woken him with a kiss to the shoulder, then the neck, then the lips and they hadn’t been able to stop since.

“Why do we need to do that?” Sam was up on his elbows over him, smiling down at him. His eyes were lazy and his lips kiss bitten. It was different being like this in the yellow sunlight. It seemed more real, less like something Nathan was about to wake up from.

“It’s your birthday, we can’t stay in bed all day. We gotta do something special.”

“This is special,” Nathan said, running his hands up Sam’s arms, feeling the muscles there. “We can’t afford to do anything anyway.”

“That doesn’t matter, tell me what you wanna do, and we’ll do it.”

 _I want to stay with you here, like this, for as long as possible,_ Nathan wanted to say. So he did.


End file.
